


Therapy

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mention of Character Death, Mourning, Philinda - Freeform, Philinda Phone Calls, Philinda Phone Calls Day 29, Therapy, guesses as to timeframe for certain events, spoilers for season 1 Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2218392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's refused help for so long, but certain events and orders have Melinda May facing someone she never imagined she would- a S.H.I.E.L.D appointed therapist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how much time passed between when Coulson came back to life (we know he was dead for four days) and when he came back to S.H.I.E.L.D. I'd recently watched "The Well", so based on a comment he made I assumed the timeline I've written in is close enough.

“You're angry with him.”

“No, I-” She let out an exasperated sigh, turned her attention to the fish tank situated on the other side of the large, sunny space. The entire room was far too airy, colors far too warm to suit her, but the twenty gallon tank with it's lone goldfish appealed to her interior design tastes more so than the overstuffed armchair she'd settled into. As she watched the fish began to circle lazily, May wondered if in its deepest thoughts it knew that for all the swimming it was never going to get anywhere. “He's dead. It couldn't be helped.”

“Couldn't it?” S.H.I.E.L.D had never required therapy after the death of colleagues, after the type of trauma that would cause an individual to leave the field or pursue other avenues within the agency, and she'd found herself surprised when Fury himself had issued the memo ordering her to report to a mandatory therapy session. They hadn't spoken again after his revelation that Coulson was to be revived, and she wondered if her avoiding contact with him had triggered the sudden requirement. “He was a lone agent, one whose primary function had been to assemble and delegate. The bottom line is that although he was trained for combat, Phillip Coulson had no business approaching Loki without proper backup.”

“He wasn't _wrong._ ” A slender blonde who reminded her of Natasha Romanov, Doctor Lu leaned back in her own overstuffed monstrosity, head tilting in an unmistakably quizzical manner.

“You sound defensive. Why _wasn't_ he wrong to break protocol?”

May could feel the bite of pain in her palms, glanced down to realize she'd been clenching her fists, nails digging into the skin and causing crescent shaped bruises to appear as blood rose to the surface. It felt good, was almost a relief to feel the pain, reminding her of physical injury on a larger scale. Coulson would not have felt pain, due to the rush of adrenaline coupled with the massive and immediate blood loss caused as the staff protruding from his heart had been withdrawn. She wondered if he'd felt surprise, wondered if he'd felt a rush of sadness as he'd thought about dying.

She wondered if he'd even realized he _would_.

“Melinda.” It was strange to hear anyone speak her first name, let alone this person she'd never met until today. Although Administration had much more to do with the human resource side of S.H.I.E.L.D. she'd managed to avoid the on-site therapists even after Bahrain, when things had been darker than she'd ever thought possible. No one had suggested therapy then, and Coulson had been an ear she hadn't known she needed. But this time, with the biggest loss she'd ever faced since her last days in the field- Coulson hadn't been there to help with the aftermath. “I can't help you if you don't tell me what you're feeling. Agent Coulson died over a month ago- and Director Fury seems to believe you need someone to talk to.”

“I don't.” She pushed to her feet defiantly- felt the familiar rage rising, the taste of bile in her throat. “I don't _need_ to be here.”

“You're struggling. And,” Her legs uncrossed and Lu leaned forward, propping her chin in her hand as she considered May carefully. “I suspect you're internalizing your feelings. No one can help you if you don't allow someone in.”

_I had someone. He died._

“I can see that you're angry. I need you to tell me why.”

“ _He shouldn't have gone alone_ .” It was exactly what Lu had said, the woman who had never met Phil Coulson somehow able to voice everything that his oldest and closest friend hadn't been able to admit to herself. He'd had no business going after Loki alone, whether it had been protocol or not. But that had been the kind of person Coulson was, putting his needs and his desire to protect ahead of his own safety. If he'd thought it would stave off attack or would in any way prevent it, he'd have torn out his heart and offered it to the first who would take it as sacrifice. 

“But you _are_ upset with him.”

“Because he was stupid. Foolish, and stupid.”May ran a hand through her hair and shook it loose again, the scent of chamomile and honey wafting in its wake. “Even if he'd known he would die he would have gone anyway. That's who he was.”

“Are you only upset with Agent Coulson?”

“Who else would I be angry at?” A short laugh broke past her lips, and she was surprised by how harsh it sounded. “Loki?”

“Yourself. You should have been there to protect him.” She could feel the soft grey eyes on her, turned her own face back to the fish tank where the goldfish burbled soundlessly behind thick glass. “But you're not a field agent anymore, Melinda. And you can't protect everyone.”

“Maybe not, but I know when someone needs protecting, and I'm not helpless.” May glanced at the clock, the hands just shy of one hour. The longest hour of her life, she thought, though it fought to succeed the place held by the day she'd been given the news that Phil Coulson had died. “Looks like we're out of time, Doctor. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't need this, and I'm not coming back.”

~~

She strode into her apartment half an hour later, tossing her keys into the bowl on the hall table and securing the deadbolt before allowing her legs to fold beneath her. The door was smooth against her back as she slid to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest as she let the gasping breaths escape her. Adrenaline surged, nausea churning as she thought about what she'd wanted to say- what she _couldn't_ have said about Coulson. Her anger at his death had suddenly become symbiotic with the guilt at how he'd be coming back to life and as much as she'd wished she didn't...she'd _wanted_ to say how wrong she thought Fury's decision was.

The shrill ring of her mobile startled her, and without looking at the caller ID she pressed it against her ear, thumb sliding over the screen to answer.

“Maria, we need to talk. If Fury expects me to-”

“May.” She hadn't heard his voice in so long that for a moment she thought she was imagining things, that the emotional drain of her session with Doctor Lu was causing auditory hallucinations brought on by exhaustion _._ Past missions had often caused it, the screams of the dying echoing in her ears long after she'd left the field, and while she was familiar with the experience she hadn't expected it after a _therapy_ session.”Melinda?”

“Coulson.” She shifted, felt the bite of the doorstop against her spine. Once they'd trusted each other, each depending on the other person to have their back, and as the lie slipped past her lips she felt the guilt cramp deep inside her gut. “So I hear they sent you on vacation.”

“Tahiti,” He sounded rested, she thought, and the idea of it saddened her. “Director Fury brought me back in yesterday- took a red eye from the island. I tried calling earlier, wanted to let you know I was back in town.”

She hadn't seen the missed call during her session, wondered what the doctor might have said if she'd taken a call from a ghost. Clearance levels that high didn't extend to the psychological side of S.H.I.E.L.D, and it would have been harder to explain than she'd have liked.

“I was busy.” He wouldn't understand, wouldn't see why she'd accepted therapy from a stranger when she couldn't accept it from a friend. He wouldn't be able to see why she'd fought him so hard when _he'd_ thought she needed help, but took Fury's orders for the same without a sound. “I have to go, Phil.”

“May-” He stopped for a moment, quieted, and she wondered if that was what her life would have been if he hadn't come back. A sudden stop at his death, and a series of empty, quiet nights without the sound of his voice on the other end of the line. Her mother would call once a month as she always did, scolding her eating habits and assuring her that there were always other agencies who would appreciate her multitude of talents. But she would never ask out loud the question that ran through her daughter's mind, whether there was anything left for her there, without him. If there was anyone left who would give a damn about her as much as he had.

“I have to go.” Her finger hovered over the screen, twitched slightly as she urged herself to press down and end the call before she had to lie again. Before she had to keep pretending he'd been sipping Mai Tais instead of lying in a body bag. “I'm glad you're back.”

“Melinda, wait.”

“Goodbye.” The screen was slick with sweat, mixed with a thin layer of pressed powder from her cheek as she ended the call and plunged the apartment into silence. She thought she could still hear him, thought if she concentrated she could picture the look on his face as he spoke her name into the phone. And imagining it hurt as much as the time she'd thought she'd lost him forever.

Because, she realized, the moment she'd lied to him was the moment she'd had to let him go.


End file.
